A Place For Everything
by music nimf
Summary: And everything in its place. The Ninth ponders on where it is that his son belongs.
1. A Place For Everything

**A/N: These two stories do not share continuity, but instead share the same theme. The second one is shorter and less dense so if you prefer that style feel free to skip to the next one.**

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><p>It is a terrible punishment being the leader of Varia, an oxymoronic joke of a position. Leader of the assassination squad was an assignment given mostly to traitors of the Family as a way to cruelly and discretely get rid of those too powerful to kill publically. The cold blooded nature of the Varia's work yielded unsavory people. Even a person like Tyr, who had lead Varia after killing one too many of the Vongola's swordsmen, was killed by a man who respected him.<p>

So when Xanxus told him that he intended to join the Vongola's assassination squad with his swordsman schoolmate, it was with mixed emotions. Everyone in the Family seemed to be behind it. Xanxus had been violent with several members of the Family and many were hoping for retribution, but nobody dared to act on it in fear of upsetting the heir of the Vongola. There was no doubt in his mind that Xanxus would strive to control the members of Varia. It was in his eldest's nature to dominate by any means necessary. He would most certainly strive to be the leader of the unruly, and truly unstable, group.

But he agreed, happy that Xanxus had chosen a different path to the one he had boasted since he took him as his son, the one Timoteo couldn't allow happen. He had been dreading the day that he had to tell Xanxus that he was not a blood relative, that he lied to him. He knew that Xanxus would hate him even though he had hoped that he would not. He knew that Xanxus had burned most of his bridges with his arrogance, and when the news got out that he wasn't the heir to the Family then he would be humiliated with nobody to stand by him. He knew that Xanxus would lash out violently.

Retrospectively, he should have known that Xanxus was up to something, but at the moment he was so grateful that he could say nothing but yes. Later, he would tell Iemitsu of Xanxus' change of heart and watch as the man's frown turned into words that expressed a concern that he had been pretending was not there. Xanxus had only one desire his entire life and that was to become the Vongola Decimo. This "change of heart" was concealing something sinister, both men could feel it.

Then the cradle incident happened. He was forever grateful that Iemitsu had asked him not to kill Xanxus, the only request that made him not duty bound to kill his own son. It wasn't until he met Tsunayoshi that he understood that Iemitsu gave him that request to spare him a pain he himself would not bear. Then Enrico was shot in feud with the Marmellata Family after killing the Don's nephew, imitating his months older brother in arrogance but possessing none of his power. And then Massimo's body was found bloated at the bottom of the river after forcing himself on the lover of an assassin from the Tomoso Family. Then his precious Federico went missing only to be found three months later, just a pile of chard bones, by a young boy from the small Spezia Family. In the eight years from the cradle incident his sense of duty kept him in charge of the Vongola, but he felt like nothing more than an old man who wanted little more than to live the rest of his days quietly without creating any new ghosts. He chose his heir, someone who could restore the Vongola to what it once was, a Family that alleviated sorrow, not nurtured it. Someone who would not make the same mistakes he had made. Someone who he did not raise.

Timoteo had confronted his own mortality many times, but the inevitable disease of old age was different. There was no getting stronger, no protection, no devotion that could stop this death; he would simply fade and he found himself thinking of what he was leaving behind. He would trust the Vongola, his life's devotion, to young Tsunayoshi. He would trust Reborn to make sure that he was ready for his position.

He thought of how precious every moment was in the winter of his life. How wonderful and beautiful every breath and friend and sound and smell and smile and memory and curse and fight and everything was. Life was the greatest gift. He thought of his children and how he had wanted to give them the world and how he still did, despite unforgiving reality. More than ever he wanted to spoil them with the gift of life.

Reviving Xanxus had been a selfish plan and too many people paid for it. After the battle over the rings, many expected Xanxus to be sent to Vindicare Prison, but because this was solely a Vongola matter it was put in Timoteo's hands to punish him. Luckily, there was already a punishment set up for traitors. Xanxus was appointed official leader of Varia.

It was in this capacity that Timoteo learned a father's pride in watching his child grow to succeed beyond expectation. Xanxus was destined to be a leader. His flame of wrath was just as orange as all who possessed the trait of the all encompassing sky. His ability to draw in others and gain loyalty was strong if unexplainable. For the first time someone commanded the respect of all of the Varia, a previously impossible feat. His son had the unconditional loyalty of the most disloyal people in the mafia world. The Varia was to the brim with psychopaths, but they were also stronger and sharper and more organized than they had ever been. The success rate of their missions was near perfect. So many members of the Family had avoided bloodshed because of their success and reputation. In the darkest corner of the Family, Xanxus had made the Vongola stronger and became a pillar that supported it. It was a perfect fit.

Timoteo wished that Xanxus saw it that way, but Xanxus wasn't the kind of person to settle for less power and felt his position in Varia was an insult to his pride. How nice, he would think, if Xanxus had really wanted to join Varia all those years ago. He would watch his son's shinning success in his chosen path, having to deny him nothing. Perhaps the reputation of the Varia or one of their missions would have prevented Federico's death. And when the Vongola Decimo inherited the Family he would have the young Spezia boy that Iemitsu trained on his right and Xanxus hidden in the shadows on his left. Timoteo could tell him how proud he was of what he'd accomplished and maybe Xanxus would smile at him for the first time and maybe call him Father like he used to. It wouldn't matter, then, that they didn't share blood.

But those were just an old man's foolish thoughts, influenced too heavily on the little time left in the world, but seemingly endless time to regret.


	2. And Everything In Its Place

The office wasn't anything inventive. There was a desk with a lamp and piles of paper, in front of a large rectangular window. Book shelves with old, hard cover books lined most of the walls. The couch placed at an angle in front of the desk was plush, made of tan leather, and made the room seem more compact than it was. The air was terminally stale despite the ceiling fan's shaky attempts.

Behind the desk, sitting in an overly lavish chair, sat an old man looking amusedly through a stack of papers. His source of amusement not on the texts in front of him, but on the scowling man that had delivered them.

"Hurry up you old fart!"

After all, it wasn't everyday that his son came to see him personally.

"I've had enough of this. I'm leaving."

"Xanxus."

He was still as insolent at 28 as the day he found out that he wasn't going to inherit the Family. Or had he always been insolent? Surely Xanxus didn't think so. After all, he thought that he would one day have one of the greatest powers in the world. It's only insolence when you're not at the top. Well it didn't matter now, because Xanxus did stop.

"Here, I have approved of the Varia's next set of assignments."

He was always so angry. He snatched up the paper on the Ninth's desk and held the document crumpled in his fist. The uncontainable rage dripping from his seams was so very unlike the annoyed reaction that he got from the swordsman who usually comes to his office for this task.

"Where is Squalo today?"

He knows that trying to start a conversation with the angered man would be fruitless, but that's not the purpose of this particular question. Xanxus looked over his shoulder to speak before opening the door.

"I don't care about that trash."

The answer offered no explanation, as expected. Despite their standing as family, or more likely because of it, Xanxus wasn't supposed to ever be in the presence of the Ninth Vongola. But here he was because the ninth had allowed it, despite their standing as family, or more likely because of it. And now Xanxus was walking out the door.

"I'd forgotten how much I hated your face old man. Next time I see you, I'll kill you."

And his son smirked as a gun on either side of his head cocked before the threat completely fell from his lips. No, Xanxus hadn't always been so insolent.

He lifted a flame covered hand high enough for the old man to see and close enough to remind the guards of their mortality. The old man lifted the staff at his side slightly so that the flame covered orb on top was visible to the younger. Xanxus' smirk morphed into a sneering frown and he extinguished his flame. People were only insolent because they knew their place.

Xanxus snorted and walked away aggravated, not looking back.

The ninth boss watched his child's back with a sad smile.

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><p><strong>AN: Thank you for reading. :) This second story was written first a few years ago and is x-posted on the Livejournal community hitman_reborn. I did not steal it. I hope you enjoyed these two fics and I would love to know what you thought of them. The relationship between the Ninth and Xanxus has always been one of my favorites. Also, please feel free to critique my two writing styles and grammar. **


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